


The Hit

by Mishiman



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Past Abuse, Rough Sex, Spoilers, This is a bit dark, Unsafe Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 22:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13867701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishiman/pseuds/Mishiman
Summary: If Ryuji was good for anything, it was taking a hit.





	The Hit

Watching Akechi in battle really pissed him off.

  
The Shadow rushed in, and he fell back, step for step. The Shadow swung, and he skipped aside, soles squeaking on the glossy floor. The Shadow came in high, and he ducked in low to counter, those stupid fucking tassels flying everywhere. Just once, it'd be nice to see him trip and fall on his face.

  
Maybe he just wanted to see him have to try.

  
The Thieves filed out of the safe room. Everybody but him and Akechi, anyway. Akira was last. Ryuji stood by the door, and Akira dropped the quietest "Be careful" you ever heard. Didn't even move his lips. Then he was gone.

  
Akechi reached the door, and Ryuji stood in front of it.

  
"Did you need my assistance, Skull?" All prim and proper.

  
"Yeah, actually. Think there is somethin' I need your help with." It was so easy. Akechi was so focused on being perfect that all Ryuji had to do was sit back down on the couch in the safe room. Akechi followed, because of course he did. Probably thought he wanted advice for the entrance exams, or some stupid fucking thing. Ryuji laid out his shotgun, club and his Skull mask in a pile next to the couch, then stood for a moment to shimmy out of his heavy ammo belts as well for good measure. They were gonna be here for a while.

  
Akechi just sat down and watched him lay everything out, that fake little smile of his already on his face. Like a thin layer of paint. He took his example and laid out his weapons and Crow mask on his own side of the couch. "How can I - "

  
Ryuji wiped that smile off real quick. He grabbed his marching band uniform, or whatever the fuck he was supposed to be, and balled his fist at his throat, wrinkling the fabric. Good. "Wanna ask you a favour."

  
"Skull, what are you - " Even now, not a hair out of place. Yeah, that smile was gone, but he still looked like the cameras were about to come on any second. Like he was sitting in some TV studio somewhere, waiting for the commercial break to be over.

  
"Aw, don't make me _say_ it, man." He left his fist bunched in his uniform and reached out for Akechi's junk with his other hand, grinning. How far would he have to push?

  
Akechi thrashed, thrashed like Ryuji had stung him. Hadn't even made contact yet. _"Let go of me."_ Like he still had a say.

  
Ryuji just swung his leg over Akechi's lap and sat there like he belonged there. Akechi was spitting mad and for a second he looked like he wanted nothing more than to bite him. Just lean forward a couple inches and sink his teeth in. It meant Ryuji was making some progress. But then Akechi's TV face came back, slotted into place like a second skin on top of his real face.

  
Ryuji laughed. "Figure it out yet, 'Detective'?"

  
Akechi finally raised a hand to him and tried to shove him off - did it seriously take him this long just to fight back? - but Ryuji stuck out his elbow to block him with his forearm. He clenched his fist tighter around that ridiculous uniform and settled his other hand onto Akechi's crotch.

  
More thrashing. More pointless shoving at his shoulders, more open-handed slaps at his chest. Ryuji gave him points for actually trying to headbutt him. Not something he'd have expected from him, if he was being honest. But he telegraphed it and Ryuji could see it coming a mile away, so he dodged and got only a thump on the meaty part of his shoulder. Oh well. Akechi seethed and said something unimportant.

  
Ryuji's thumb had found something interesting, though. He stroked it, and it became a little more interesting. "See, you _do_ like me. Wanna be friends?" He switched to himself and angled his hips to show Akechi.

  
The face he was making was incredible. No more TV face. Now he was just as ugly as anyone else, his lip curled in disgust. "You... they're going to come back, you know. If we stay behind for too long, the others will notice."

  
Ryuji threw back his head and laughed. Sure they would. "What makes you think they don't know what's goin' on, 'kechi-kun?" He put a little croon into it.

  
It was a bluff, of course. Akira would've made up some reason for Ryuji to have stayed behind with Akechi, so the others wouldn't worry, but he wasn't just going to go out and tell them what Ryuji had planned, either.

  
"Don't - we're supposed to use the code names. Joker said - "

  
Ryuji tuned him out. Akechi could be like a little kid sometimes. It wasn't just the toys that he brought into battle, and it wasn't just his shiny white uniform. He also thought the rules were meant to be followed. He really believed that.

  
That shiny white uniform wasn't so shiny white anymore, though. Strings of black Shadow ichor here, on both the sleeves. A big maroon stain there, on the chest, behind the silly gold rope things. Whatever they were.

  
Akechi had stopped flailing around, for a minute at least. Good, because Ryuji was busy. He traced first the black Shadow goop, then the bloodstain with his gloved finger, leaving it there on his chest.

  
Akechi had actually made a mistake for once. Here was proof, right in front of him. "Shadow gotcha, huh?"

  
Now that Ryuji had stopped touching him below the waist, Akechi just sat back and watched him, hands at his sides. "Yes. Mona healed me," he said evenly. As if Ryuji had asked because he was _worried_ about him.

  
His eyes went back to that stain, again and again. Akechi wasn't so perfect. He'd fucked up in battle just like he'd fucked up his big plan to betray them. Fucked it up all the way back when they'd first met him at the TV station. Of course, that was what Akira had warned him to be careful about. He knew how this was gonna go. He knew Ryuji would come out on top. He just didn't want him to tip their hand too soon.

  
Akechi already thought he was dumber than dirt, so it was easy enough to let him keep thinking that.

  
He'd kept quiet for too long. Akechi was struggling beneath him again, giving him these weak-ass little shoves. "Skull, if you don't let me go, I'm going to have to... "

  
Now this was interesting, too. "You'll what? You're gonna have to what?" He made himself comfortable on Akechi's lap, just to shove it in his face. He grinned as his black Metaverse outfit caught at him and pulled it tighter for Akechi's benefit. He wasn't gonna let him forget why they were here.

  
Akechi didn't answer, because he was too busy staring. Ryuji worked himself up through the material and pulled it taut against himself, and Akechi watched. When Ryuji finally let go of his stupid white uniform and patted out the wrinkles for him, maybe a little harder than strictly necessary, Akechi didn't start struggling again. And when Ryuji stroked himself with one hand and settled the heel of his other hand back on Akechi's crotch, Akechi didn't say a word.

  
Maybe Akechi was human after all.

  
Here was a face that wasn't fit for a TV interview, either. Akechi's tongue darted out and licked his lips, and as Ryuji stared at him, he closed his eyes, like he couldn't stand to watch what was happening any longer. What Ryuji was doing to him. When Ryuji looked closer, he realized Akechi was fucking _blushing._

  
Did he close his eyes out of trust? Or resignation?

  
Ryuji gripped his junk through his white pants, hard, until Akechi hissed through his teeth. But he kept his eyes closed. So Ryuji finessed him a little. He could trace his outline through the fabric now. He kept it up, pressing his palm into it and thumbing the head until Akechi floated his hand up and covered his own mouth, gasping.

  
But he kept his eyes closed. What did he think this was, exactly?

  
He couldn't figure out why that pissed him off at first. But then he got it. Akechi was that comfortable? Akechi was so self-assured, felt like he _belonged,_ to the point that he could just... ignore him? Did he feel _safe?_

  
Ryuji didn't like being ignored.

  
He kept on stroking him with one hand and used the other to grab Akechi's wrist and yank his hand away from his mouth. Then he leaned forward, all at once, and kissed him.

  
It wasn't a nice kiss. Ryuji took every inch he could until Akechi's head was laying back against the top of the couch, the cords of his neck standing out. Ryuji crushed his lips with his. Was it still called kissing when there was this much teeth involved? Akechi made a noise of protest into his mouth. Too fucking bad. It spurred Ryuji on to grab him harder and harder, until his fingers were closer to a steel cage than something you'd want anywhere near your cock. He thought of Akira, suddenly, of him saying one of his witty one-liners that he was so good at - something like _You have to keep a firm hand at a time like this,_ complete with that smirk of his - and laughed into Akechi's mouth, rough and dark.

  
Akechi tried to pull away. Ryuji followed him, and Akechi slapped him.

  
Finally. Ryuji brought his face back to centre and grinned. His hand had never stopped working at him, not for a second.

  
Another slap. Akechi couldn't dish out a fucking hit to save his life. But Ryuji liked this face. If Akechi showed this face during a TV interview, he'd never be asked for another. His eyes had gone dark and dull like a dead thing's, no colour.

  
Ryuji found his zipper and pulled it down.

  
Akechi slapped him backhanded this time. He could feel his knuckles strike him, glove or no glove, and then his face started to sting a bit. But if Ryuji was good for anything, it was taking a hit.

  
It had been a talent of his for as long as he could remember. When things started to amp up, the air took on this crackle. Tension. You could feel it and you could smell it, too. Shouting could start it, but so could the right words, even if they were real quiet. Sometimes it was shoving, or slamming doors. Things could get further and further on their own, but then they'd just... hang. Like everybody was waiting for it. Everybody knew. There'd be this real long stretch, like a gap. A chasm between one thing and another. Something needed to happen to get to the other side. Then he'd take the hit.

  
It hurt. Of course it hurt. But pain wasn't bad. It was just pain, its own thing all to itself. You get hit enough times and you know how it's gonna be before it gets to you, and you can just put it in its box and keep going.

  
There'd be this big fat silence after. Like everybody was so fucking shocked. Really, they all knew what was coming. That was the other side of the chasm. By the time you got there, the crackle was gone. Things came back down on the other end of that silence, and it would be better. Yeah, his mom'd be crying. Or the track team would all be staring at him. Whispering. Didn't matter. Taking the hit meant things could cool down again after, so it was worth it.

  
But it had to be a good hit. None of this slapfight bullshit.

  
What he was not good at was dealing them out himself. It didn't come to him naturally. When you offered yourself up to take the hit, there was a method to it. You stood up tall to show you could take it. You put your shoulders back and looked at them head on to show you _wanted_ it. What you did not do was make a fist. Make a fist, and that turned it into something else entirely. The deal was the hit itself, in exchange for the silence after. The end of the tension. Make a fist, and you'd get more than just the hit.

  
That's how he'd fucked up the track team. Kamoshida didn't seem to know how things worked. He pushed and he pushed and he pushed, but he wouldn't take things that last little inch. Ryuji stood tall and waited in front of him, but the hit never came. Then Kamoshida brought up his parents, and Ryuji finally understood. Kamoshida was on the other side of it. Ryuji was the one who had to dish it out this time, so he did. Instead of silence, he got himself a fucked up leg, a suspension, and the track team was terminated.

  
That was the one and only time he'd laid out the hit himself, and to say things hadn't gone well afterward would be an understatement. But his talent had always served him well in the past, time after time. He had to trust in it.

  
Of course, sometimes, to get to the hit, you had to push for it. There'd been a handful of times when his dad had tried to change their routine, to shout threats and slam things into the walls until the room was filled with that crackling intensity, that _thrum,_ and then just... leave it there. Tried to amp everybody up until you could feel your hair stand on end and then just fucking go to bed. As if that were an option. Ryuji had needled him, pushed pushed pushed, and in the end, got them all over that gap and into the silence past it. Nothing felt better than that silence.

  
He couldn't even really blame Akechi for not knowing. TV celebrities didn't have to know. It wouldn't come up for a prodigy junior detective either.

  
Ryuji had already done everything he could think of to push him where he needed to go. Somebody would just have to show him.

  
In the end, it wasn't as hard as he'd thought. All he did was lean back a little for a better reach, then looped out his fist and mashed Akechi's lips against his teeth, easy as breathing. He'd spent all this time putting it on a pedestal, but there was nothing to it. No harder than breaking a glass.

  
He sighed with satisfaction when he got a good look at _this_ face. Akechi had a red grin, his lips pulled tight around his teeth. Could you see _all_ of somebody's teeth at once? Close to it, maybe. Akechi spat blood at his face, and without thinking twice, Ryuji wiped it off with his glove and gave it right back. It looked pretty good smeared next to that maroon stain from where the Shadow had gotten him before. Complemented his outfit, really.

  
"Think red's your colour." He sat up straighter in his lap, squared his shoulders, and waited.

  
Akechi did not disappoint him. He lunged for him, and Ryuji didn't block him this time. It was enough to bowl him over backward and took them both right off the couch. Ryuji slammed into the hard floor back-first and Akechi followed right after him, sitting on him and hitting him.

  
It was a good one. Closed fist, square on the highest point of his cheekbone. Akechi had missed his eye, if that was what he'd been aiming for, but Ryuji would have a good raised knot there for a long time after. It was already getting warm and swelling. Ryuji smiled. Now he could take them to the other side.

  
Akechi straightened up and loomed over him as Ryuji slowly raised his hands, prepared to hit him again, but Ryuji locked eyes with him and kept going. He took off the glove of his right hand and reached into Akechi's open fly.

  
This time he was practically tender. Ryuji slipped his fingertips along his length, still trapped behind what looked like plain white briefs, and Akechi just let him. Akechi didn't look comfortable, and he definitely wasn't ignoring him now. He glared down at him, red teeth bared, and waited to see what he would do.

  
Akechi had gone half soft again in the interim. Getting popped in the mouth probably had that effect. Ryuji brought up his other hand, slowly and deliberately, to show him what he meant to do. Then he fumbled with the slit of Akechi's briefs until he managed to draw him out.

  
"Very _nice,_ 'kechi-kun - " He meant it, too.

  
"Skull. It's Crow," Akechi gritted out.

  
Even now, after all that, he still couldn't do it. Akechi could backhand him, take a punch in the mouth and even send one back, but he couldn't break the rules. Akira had told him they'd be using codenames, so he called him Skull, no matter what Ryuji called him first.

  
There was such a thing as pushing too far. "Whatever you say," he said sweetly. He pulled his fingertips over Akechi, first one hand, then the other. Soon he had him standing tall, ready to go. Felt real good in his hand, too, when he finally let Akechi's length lay against his palm and wrapped his fingers around him. Akechi seemed to think so too. Ryuji liked this face of his the best. That fucking blush was back, but his eyes stayed open this time. Now they were the opposite of the dull, dead-thing eyes he'd had before - his eyes were lit up, anticipating what Ryuji might do. He left his lips apart just a little, shiny and dark red. A slick of blood oozed out the corner of his mouth, and a strand of his hair had fallen forward and stuck to it.

  
Ryuji looked up at him and rolled his hips against his ass, just enough to remind him this wasn't gonna be a one-sided deal.

  
One step too far for Akechi. "You - you piece of _filth,"_ he spat - literally: a little red spray misted down and decorated his white uniform. Ryuji admired it for a second. "You really think I'd let you - "

  
"Aw. Thought we were friends now. Thought we were real close." He smiled up at him and squeezed the head of Akechi's cock.

  
Watching Akechi's face tip from abject hatred to lust and back again was pretty fun, but there were other things on the agenda today. Ryuji stroked him slowly with one hand and used the other to reach into a little zip pocket at his waist. He pulled out a bottle of lube.

  
Off like a shot. Ryuji laughed from the floor and listened to Akechi blow through the safe room door and pound down the hall. "You forgot your weapons... " he called. "Be a shame if a Shadow found you now."

  
The footsteps stopped. By the time Akechi reappeared in the doorway, Ryuji was sitting on the arm of the couch, his light sabre thing in one hand and his ray gun in the other. His own club and shotgun leaned against the side of the couch next to him.

  
That _face_ he was making... "Skull. Give them to me." He held out his hand, but when Ryuji slapped his ray gun into his palm, he nearly dropped it. Guess he didn't think it'd be that easy.

  
"A-and... now the sabre."

  
He savoured that little tremor in his voice for a second or two before he answered. "Sorry. Gotta borrow it for a sec."

  
Akechi took a big step back.

  
"Nothin' to worry about, chickenshit. You got your gun." He picked up the sabre and eyed it. He'd feel real stupid if the fucking thing was too long after all. But if he stretched out his arm all the way, like that, and then reversed his grip, like _this..._ Akechi gasped as Ryuji started to melt a hole in his Metaverse outfit with the tip of the laser. A nasty burning plastic smell filled the air.

  
"You're going to - "

  
Ryuji dropped the sabre to the floor and laughed again as Akechi lunged forward to snatch it while keeping his gun trained on him like he was doing some kind of stupid maneuver - shit he'd seen in a movie, maybe - then put it away. Ryuji stuck two fingers of each hand into the hole he'd made just above his crotch and pulled, hard. His outfit was great for some things, like battle, but not so great for other things, like fucking. Since it was a cognitive thing, his brain had apparently decided a zipper wasn't necessary. Oh sure, there was one that started up by his collar - but the stupid thing only went to his chest and no further. Luckily, whatever plasticky shit his outfit was made of tore easy once you got it going. He kept it up until he had a good foot long hole to take the breeze with. Akechi's Metaverse outfit had come equipped with briefs, but it seemed Ryuji's brain didn't think he needed those, either.

  
Akechi stood between him and the closed door, his red mouth open in shock. Ryuji gloried in the attention and started to stroke himself with a little groan. Felt good to finally get some skin on skin contact. By the time he looked up again, he caught Akechi still staring. He crooked his finger, and Akechi took a step forward, then stopped.

  
Interesting.

  
Ryuji crooked his finger again, still working at himself. He circled himself and squeezed hard, hard enough to hurt. "C'mere, 'kechi-kun," he said softly.

  
Akechi stayed where he was, a foot or two out of reach. But Ryuji could see his hand, the one not holding his stupid toy gun, twitch. It looked like he'd almost started to touch himself.

  
"Gonna watch me? That it?" He glanced down at the side of the couch. "Ah. Gotcha." He kicked his club away, then slid his shotgun along the floor after it. "Anythin' else?"

  
Akechi just gave him another TV face. Maybe the one he used when he was trying to sound all badass, talking about the Phantom Thieves' next move or whatever. He didn't look shocked anymore. More like he was trying to figure him out. Calculating the odds, maybe.

  
Ryuji moved down from the arm of the couch to the seat and grinned at him. "You _got_ your gun, man," he repeated. He crooked his finger for a third time, and this time Akechi came.

  
Akechi settled into his lap to pin him down, their positions reversed from before, and Ryuji let him. If Akechi thought he was the one in charge, that was fine. It just meant he was gonna be in for a surprise later. Ryuji tipped his head back against the couch and grinned up at him. "Change your mind?"

  
Akechi didn't look comfortable this time, either. His mouth was open again in a red smile. "Shut up, Skull." He grabbed Ryuji's cock in his gloved hand and gave him one rough pump, his ray gun still down by his side in his other hand. When Ryuji wrapped his fingers around Akechi's cock in turn, Akechi started stroking him.

  
Not bad. Not _great,_ but not bad. Ryuji kept his own hand going, and Akechi let out this little moan. Aw. "Fuckin' virgin, ain'tcha."

  
That blush was back. Akechi baring his bloody teeth at him at the same time sort of gave it a different vibe, though.

  
"Listen. This is nice n' all, but. Got other plans for you." He reached back into his zip pocket and fished out the lube again with his free hand.

  
That toy gun of his made sort of a high pitched whine when Akechi... cocked it? Whatever you did with a ray gun, anyway. He'd flown off of Ryuji's lap the second the lube came back out and stood in front of him, panting. The ray gun was pointed at his chest, dead centre. Flighty little prick.

  
That was okay though. He'd needed Akechi up and off his lap again anyway. He still wore one yellow glove, so he uncapped the lube and slicked up the first two fingers of that hand. He slouched down on the couch, spread his legs wide and let his eyes fall shut as he shoved his fingers inside himself.

  
It hurt, but pain was just pain. The stretch started out as a burn but you could turn it into a dull ache, then a nice warm feeling pretty quick, if you kept at it. His gloves were thick and had sort of a rough pebbled texture, probably to give a better grip. Not really the go to for something like this, but he'd come to like it, over time. He pulled them back out and coated them with more lube, then sent them back inside, good and deep this time, until he felt his muscles loosen a bit.

  
Akechi had lowered his gun.

  
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think that shit was for you... ? You musta been _so_ worried. Silly me."

  
Ryuji locked eyes with him and kept it up, curling his fingers now. His cock stirred and stood taller, all on its own. Akechi couldn't seem to decide if he wanted to look at that or at what Ryuji's fingers were doing.

  
He stopped. He crooked his finger and beckoned to Akechi with his clean hand.

  
"C'mere, 'kechi-kun." Akechi came. He dragged his feet, and he kept his gun in his hand, but he came.

  
Akechi went all quiet and just let Ryuji lube him up. The couch was low to the ground so Akechi knelt between his legs and thrust in, all at once.

  
More burn, more pain. Not a problem. What was a problem was Akechi's face. He thought he'd won.

  
How could someone so smart be such a stupid fuck.

  
He leered down at Ryuji, red smile and eyes down to slits, and _laughed._ A real ugly one, not at all like that light little TV laugh he did that made Ryuji want to gag. He must've made a face because Akechi brandished his ray gun at him, inches from his skin. "Careful now, Skull." A deep thrust, until Ryuji felt his balls hit him with a smack. "You're going to have to keep that filthy mouth of yours shut. I know that must be hard for you, but - " Shorter, rougher thrusts now. " - you'll just have to find a way."

  
This wasn't the way it needed to go. Things were still up in the air, amped up and crackling. The thing Akechi was doing right now between his legs, all frantic and spazzy, wouldn't get them to the other side.

  
Ryuji's talent was taking the hit, and this was just more of the same.

  
He did it so the others didn't have to. So the others wouldn't even have to think about it. Not that the Thieves would ask him to. They didn't know about taking the hit either. Akira came close, maybe. He'd seen how Ryuji had resolved things with the track team. How he'd put his shoulders back, stood tall, and waited. And just in case that hadn't been enough, he'd even given them permission in words on top of it. "So if you wanna hit me or something, go ahead. I'm ready." That was what he'd said. In the end, Akira must've known a little about it, because he stood back and let him handle it.

  
Akira had still helped, though. Those two guys from the track team didn't know how it was supposed to go, so they'd really laid into him. Things could've come back down again with just a punch in the gut, but they'd kept it up until they were satisfied. That was okay, too. He deserved it. But it still felt a little dicey in the middle there. He'd started to wonder if they'd ever _stop_ laying into him. But when they weren't focusing on his face, he could look over, and Akira was there. And he didn't look away, either.

  
They practically thanked him after, and everything was better after that. He'd _fixed_ everything. The track team was reinstated, and they got a new coach. And he got to show Akira what he could do. His talent. He got everybody through that crackling tension, past that gap and into the silence after, and it was the best one yet.

  
Ryuji knew that Akira was here for him this time, too. The other Thieves were out front waiting for Akira, or maybe they'd all just gone home. But Akira was down the hall. Somewhere not too far off, anyway. He was close by but he trusted Ryuji to handle it, because he knew he could fix things for this team, too. Just like he'd done with the track team.

  
But it wasn't gonna happen the way things were going.

  
Akechi was all over the place. Maybe it was just because he was a virgin, or maybe it was because of that fucking ray gun. He still had it pointed at Ryuji's face, and the effort of keeping it there and having to pay attention to that and what Ryuji's hands were doing - not that they _were_ doing anything, not right now - was making him sloppy. Shallow thrust here, long pause between thrusts there, then a hard deep thrust as if to make up for it. They weren't gonna get anywhere like this.

  
Part of taking the hit was setting it up just right. If your posture wasn't right, if you raised a fist, then things would just escalate. You'd fuck it all up and things would just get worse. With his dad, it had practically been a ritual. Timing was important. Where you stood was almost as important as how you stood. It had to do with control. Set it up right and you'd get what you wanted. Do it wrong and there'd be more where that came from. Either more pain or just more of that unbearable crackling tension, neverending.

  
"Ahhh... " He had it. He knew how to get them to the other side now. He'd fucked up the setup by letting Akechi have his own way, but it was still salvageable. He just had to take control.

  
Akechi seemed to think Ryuji had made that noise because of something he'd done. His grin was ghastly, and he sped up, until he stopped again. His rhythm was nonexistant.

  
Enough was enough. He wasn't afraid of that toy gun. Akechi had no real intention of killing him, because that would fuck up his whole plan to infiltrate their team. Ryuji supposed he might intend to just give him a warning shot with it instead - zap a hole in an arm or a leg, maybe, or give him a gutshot - but he wasn't afraid of that, either. Even if he'd had a more typical relationship with pain, something about the fact that he could just go find Panther or Mona or Queen and get some healing if he asked real nice made him a lot less worried.

  
But there was always the chance that Akechi might pull the trigger accidentally, given their current activity.

  
More of Akechi's hair was stuck to his mouth now. He hunched over him, panting, until Ryuji reached up and wrapped his fingers around his upper arm. Gentle, for now.

  
That high-pitched whine again as his ray gun cocked, or charged up, or whatever. "Skull," he warned. Ryuji pointed to his own mouth and waited for Akechi to nod before he spoke.

  
"How d'you feel about constructive criticism?"

  
Now _that_ was a face.

  
"It's just that, uh. We're not gettin' too far, huh?"

  
The hand holding his stupid fucking toy gun was shaking.

  
"I mean. Look." Ryuji waved a hand at his cock. He'd gone almost entirely soft. Akechi hadn't managed to hit his prostate once. Having a gun to his head probably didn't help either, of course. "And your arm must be real tired from holdin' that gun up."

  
He thought of adding in another dig - something like _You're not a selfish lover, are you?,_ maybe - but that sneer Akechi was giving him decided for him. He raised the hand not already on Akechi's arm and swatted the ray gun right out of his hand. It went off when it hit the floor and lit up the room with a flash. Akechi's eyes followed its beam, and Ryuji took his chance while he was distracted. He grabbed Akechi's other upper arm and sat up, all at once, then pushed them both off the couch and back onto the floor.

  
He felt Akechi try to pull out, but he just chased him with his hips and sat down on his cock with all his weight. Akechi had had his chance. He didn't get to decide how things were gonna go now. Ryuji towered over him and grinned.

  
His brain didn't seem to think his Metaverse outfit required a real zipper or underwear of any kind, but it did grant him kneepads. Wasn't even the first time they'd come in handy.

  
Ryuji took him by the wrists and put his weight on them until he felt Akechi's bones grate between his hands and the floor. Pain stood out on his face, and that nearly made Ryuji give it up. It wasn't about being nice. It was just that that wasn't what he was here for. Pain came with it, sometimes, but it wasn't supposed to be the main show. He eased up, and now Akechi just looked pissed again. Better.

  
"Skull, what are you _doing - "_

  
Ryuji rolled his hips and showed him.

  
He took it slow. He grinded down on Akechi's cock, an inch at a time, and now he finally felt it. The head stroked that spot inside him, first on its way in and then on its way out, and Akechi was thicker than his fingers, too. He felt stretched, he felt _full,_ and he knew things were gonna work out. They were past the tension. Now they were in the gap between.

  
Seemed like Akechi was convinced. He moaned again, just this little quiet noise. Hard to hear over Ryuji's own breathing. Akechi's eyes flew open anyway - when had they closed? - all prepared to snap back at him in case Ryuji so much as smirked. But he didn't. Now that he'd gotten his way, he liked that sound. Akechi closing his eyes before had pissed him off, but now he liked that, too. It definitely didn't mean that Akechi felt safe this time. There was no way he could feel safe, with Ryuji looming over him and keeping his hands out of commission.

  
And that little moan meant Ryuji was doing a good job. Being proud of a job well done wasn't a bad thing.

  
Akechi was still wary, waiting for Ryuji to react to the noise he'd made. Ryuji gave him a smile. A nice smile. He didn't get one back, but he wasn't expecting one. He smiled because they were finally working together. They'd get to the silence, and things would cool down, and their little team of Phantom Thieves would feel good again. It would feel right. Yeah, Akechi would still try to pull his bullshit. He wasn't deluding himself into thinking this would change things _that_ much. But that part was on Akira, not him. All Ryuji could do was get them through this part. He couldn't change what Akechi was gonna do, but he could make things a little better for the team in the time in between. He could fix it.

  
"Can I trust you, man?"

  
"Perhaps that's something you should have asked yourself before you... " He trailed off.

  
Ryuji realized Akechi was so polite, so goddamn _uptight_ , that he couldn't even put to words what they were doing. Oh well. He knew the answer to his question, but he let go of Akechi's wrists anyway. Nobody ever said he was smart, after all.

  
Ryuji's weight grinding on his wrists had probably been hurting Akechi more than he'd let on. He immediately took them back and rubbed them, over and over, until Ryuji started to move again. He dipped low, taking Akechi in, then raised high, letting him out again. He kept an eye on Akechi himself, of course. It'd be just like him to roll away and make a grab for his stupid blaster thing, just so he could feel like he was in control again. Even if they both wanted the same thing, Akechi was like that.

  
Maybe they really were working together now, though. Akechi lay still, his eyes watching him back, and let Ryuji fuck him.

  
It wasn't like he'd forgotten exactly whose cock was in who, here. Akechi stretched him wide. He'd even twitch inside him every now and then, feeling thicker for a second or two. Ryuji's cock was left untended, although he did like to see the little drizzle of precum hitting Akechi's Metaverse uniform below him. Less and less shiny white by the minute.

  
But that part didn't matter. If Ryuji taking his cock was like taking the hit, then Ryuji fucking him was like setting up the hit just right. Yeah, there'd been a little pain. But the hit had never been the important part anyway. There was control in getting the setup just right, and there was control in this, too. He grinned, satisfied, as Akechi's face contorted below him. He'd gradually started to move a little faster, using his glutes and his quads more than his abs now, and rubbed the head of Akechi's cock right up against that spot inside him like he was scratching an itch.

  
Noisy fucker. Akechi had covered his mouth with both of his gloved hands now, but Ryuji could still hear him. Not that he was being so quiet himself, now.

  
Time to bring them to the other side. Yeah, he could've just gone ahead and done it already, true. But he'd always been one to push his luck. He sank down and buried Akechi's cock inside himself extra fast, extra deep, and used the distraction to snatch Akechi's hands away from his mouth. This face was a weird mix of fear and hazy eyed arousal and animal wariness. Maybe there was a question there, too.

  
Ryuji had no ulterior motive. He wasn't gonna grab Akechi's wrists again, and he wasn't gonna hurt him if he didn't have to. He just wanted to hear him. He'd always been a sucker for compliments, too.

  
Ryuji planted his hands on either side of Akechi's arms, still down by his sides, and stared at his mouth as he filled himself with Akechi's cock. Akechi held out as he took him in deep, and he held out as he arched his hips above him. But then Ryuji hung his head low between his shoulders as he picked up speed and slammed himself down onto Akechi, _around_ Akechi, and that was what did him in. Could've been the speed, or it could've been the fact that he wasn't being stared at anymore. Either way, Akechi let himself make a little noise, and then another little noise followed. He left his hands at his sides.

  
"Ungh... h-hah... " Ryuji half laughed, half groaned as he enjoyed the string of sounds he was wringing out of Mr. Perfect himself.

  
Stop dragging it out, idiot. The longer this went on, the more chances there were for Akechi to get creative and put a stop to it, one way or another.

  
He quit fucking around. Ryuji stuck his tongue between his teeth and pistoned Akechi in and out of himself, building up to a good rhythm that had Akechi loud enough for him to wonder if Akira could hear him down the hall. Not that what he'd been doing had been just for Akechi. Akechi's cock was hitting Ryuji just right when he started to come inside him, a throbbing pressure just where he wanted it. Ryuji immediately took his own aching cock in hand and flat out sobbed from the sheer relief of it. Maybe he was the noisy fucker. Two or three quick pulls and he was gone, shuddering outside and inside, too, if Akechi's brand new noises were telling the truth.

  
One more reason that shiny white uniform wasn't so shiny white anymore. Or at least not so clean. Oops.

  
For all that time spent at the gym, after all that training, his legs were still a little shaky as he lifted himself off of Akechi. It all started to run back out of him, cum and lube alike, and Ryuji wasn't quite quick enough to avoid pattering Akechi's pantlegs with a couple droplets on his way.

  
He stood tall over Akechi, considering things. Turning them over in his head. Then he reached out his hand and helped him up off the floor.

  
His gut told him to treat him like shit. Akechi had made too many snide little jabs at his intelligence. Called him a thug one too many times, maybe. Not to mention what they all knew was coming down the pipe from him. But. So they'd never be pals. So what? They were there. The silence. It hadn't been easy, but he'd gotten them there. They'd _both_ gotten them there, together.

  
The tension was over. It felt good.

  
Akechi carried himself with care as he surveyed the damage to his uniform. He sat on the couch, his posture so perfect even as he looked down at his dick, coated in fuck knows what. Ryuji watched the gears move inside his head and put out his hand to stop him.

  
"Aw, don't, man. You don't want that in your pants." He untied his ascot and handed it to Akechi.

  
He took it cautiously, as if, even now, there was some trick. Some hidden assault on his dignity. He wiped himself clean, then folded the ascot in a way that kept the mess on the inside before handing it back.

  
Akechi zipped himself up and straightened out his ruin of a uniform as best he could before he spoke. TV Detective Akechi was nowhere to be seen. His voice was very quiet as he stared at the floor.

"Was that the kind of treatment the others received when they joined the Phantom Thieves? Or was that solely for me?"

  
"Huh?"

  
Even quieter now. "The, ah. Hazing."

  
Was it better to let him think that?

  
"Yeah, man. Not just you, I mean. They all, uh. Yeah." He stuck out his hand, the one that he hadn't used to finger himself with a few minutes before. "Welcome to the team." Akechi shook it.

  
If Akechi thought that they'd each been broken in, or whatever he was thinking, then he wouldn't wonder why this had been just for him. He wouldn't guess that they knew about his plan to betray them, at least. And the alternative was to try to explain about taking the hit to him. About easing tension and fixing the team. It wasn't something he would understand.

  
Still. It felt kinda shitty.

  
It started out stiff and awkward, Akechi still on his guard, but it was better after Ryuji squatted low to hand him his ray gun from where it had skidded to the corner of the room. They both heard a little plip plip plip as Ryuji continued to leak onto the floor. He'd managed to forget that both his ass and his junk were still out in the open, too.

  
Akechi was so fucking red. "Skull, why on earth wouldn't you just... " He gestured to the folded ascot, still in Ryuji's hand.

  
"Oh." Ryuji gave himself only a cursory swipe with the cloth, then tossed it to the floor. "Don't matter. We'll be outta here in a minute or two, and then I'll be back in my civvies anyway."

  
_"Yes,_ but... won't you still be... " So prim and proper, even after all that. He licked at his bloody lips.

  
"It, uh. Keeps comin' out for a while, sometimes. Heh. More of a shower thing." He grinned at him. "I'm a piece of filth, remember? Gotta be true to myself, or whatever."

  
Akechi's mouth quirked, like he was torn between being polite and honest, and wound up saying nothing. But then he glanced down at his uniform again, mottled with new colours, and his face crumpled. Another face you wouldn't catch him making on TV.

  
It was supposed to be better after the silence. If Akechi was part of the team, even as some bastard double agent, then that probably meant him too.

  
Sometimes he was just too fucking nice.

  
Ryuji clapped him on the shoulder and felt him tense up like a coiled spring under his hand, prepared for the worst. Prepared to scrap with him all over again. "Joker n' me got you, man. He's gonna give me his coat, so I'm not - y'know, flashing everybody - and then you can walk behind him and me. Just hit the Nav as soon as we get out the doors."

  
Akechi still had that face on. Bitter.

  
Ryuji gave him some space. Probably what he preferred. "You did good though. Crow." He reached up to his own cheekbone and grinned wide until it hurt his face. "Didn't know you could throw a hit like that."

  
His pride wouldn't allow him to thank him, not after the day he'd just had, but he could return a compliment when given one. "And I didn't know you could... Take one. Like that."

  
He knew it was the closest he'd ever get to hearing Akechi talk about what had just happened, so he took the compliment.

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of an attempt to make sense of Ryuji after thinking about Rank 8 of his Confidant (when the track team guys beat him up and Akira either tells him it's for the best or that he DESERVES IT. Shit.)
> 
> Ryuji was going to be even less of a Good Boy but I am a coward and wound up with this ending.
> 
> I post Persona 5 fanart to Twitter and talk about fanfic a lot here: https://twitter.com/araforreal
> 
> Come yell with me about P5!


End file.
